


Dandelion, Junkrat x Reader

by Wolfsbanedraft



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Assassination, Assassins & Hitmen, Doritos - Freeform, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Hana Lucio and Jamison are best friends and no one can convince me otherwise, One-Sided Attraction, Past Abuse, Reader is bisexual, Romance, at first, junkrat is an ass, sex later, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7736095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsbanedraft/pseuds/Wolfsbanedraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An assassin gets an explosive first encounter with a pair of Aussie junkers that seems to push her life into a downward spiral. What will she do when Overwatch comes knocking? Keep killing, or try and accept her new life as a "hero"?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dandelion

You pulled the trigger without hesitation, the gun hardly made a sound. Thank god for silencers. With practiced precision the gun was quickly stowed away in your handbag and you were on your way out the door. This job had been relatively simple. Walk into the bank, charm your way into the manager’s office, then kill the limey bastard. If you’ve done it once you’ve done it a thousand times. This time however, felt a bit different. 

As you walked out of the office you felt tense. The hairs on the back of your neck started to rise. Something wasn’t right.

The left side of the wall suddenly exploding confirmed your suspicions. You’d be proud if you hadn’t been thrown ten feet by the blast. When you righted yourself you saw two annoyingly familiar figures. The Aussie bank robbers, and all-around chaos makers, Junkrat and Roadhog. Saying they were unprofessional would be an understatement. To keep it simple, if you were a rose they were dandelions.

“Dammit,” you hissed, rolling towards cover. You were strong, but not strong enough to fight these maniacs head-to-head.

Though it didn’t look like you had much of a choice. 

“Oi you there, don’ think ai can’t see ya, come out with yer hands up!” Yelled Junkrat. You hesitated before complying. Junkrat’s grin widened when you turned to face him. “Looks like we gotta looker, ay Hog?” You raised an eyebrow at his comment, but stayed silent even as he hobbled closer to you. “You look like one o’ them rich sods don’tcha, sheila. Why don’tcha just empty out that bag there for ol’ Rat eh?” Your (E/C) eyes bore into his amber ones as you unceremoniously turned your handbag upside down. You had to resist the urge to smirk as his eyes widened when your gun, and knife, clattered to the marble floor.

“Sorry,” you told him. “Not packing much money today. Maybe better luck in the safe.” Junkrat giggled wildly, swaying on his peg leg.

“Well I’ll be stuffed! Ain’t that a beaut, Hog!? The lil sheila ‘as more than just looks ay?” Roadhog grunted in response, throwing a grenade at some escape hopeful patrons. “So whatcha gone and done?” Junkrat waved his ‘gun’ at you with every word, it bobbed wildly whenever he took a step towards you. You bit your lip, finding a way out of this was going to be difficult. There was only one thing you could do.

“I killed the Bank manager.” You answered simply. “You don’t need to worry, all the money is still there. So I’d appreciate it if, one criminal to another, you could let me go on my way before your firecrackers attract some unwanted attention.” The blonde Aussie turned towards the larger man who simply lifted his huge shoulders and shrugged.

“Y’know what? It’s your lucky day. Though if I find the safe ‘as gone walkabout, you’ll be seeing us again real soon. . . Also,” He added, dragging your gun towards him with his peg leg. “I think I’ll be takin’ this with me as a bit o’ an souvenir.” You frowned a bit, losing your favorite revolver was a pain. . . But not as much of a pain as being killed.

“Whatever floats your boat,” You muttered as you made your way to the back exit, his mad laughter echoing in your ears. You made it out the door before freezing. More cops than you had ever seen, or ever wanted to see, had surrounded the building. In hindsight, you could have ran into their arms, no one knew your face or what you had done. Well hindsight is 20/20. In reality you threw yourself back into the bank faster than the snap on a mousetrap. Junkrat glanced at you through the dust of an explosion.

“Couldn't get enough of me eh?” He laughed. 

“No, surprisingly you two are somewhat more preferable to being arrested. The building's surrounded, any chance you've got a backup plan?” You hastily explained. Junkrat grinned happily while Roadhog sighed in exasperation. 

“Only got the one plan, BOOM! And if things go belly up we just throw more bombs!” He cackled, shooting a bomb out of his gun for emphasis. “Tell ya what, us criminal types gotta stick together, yeah? How’s about you fill up this sack with some o’ those stacks they got in there, and maybe ai could find room for you on our get-o-way mobile.” Junkrat threw a burlap sack at you and you caught it clumsily. The smell and feel of it immediately repulsed you. It was burnt, greasy, and smelled as if the two men had been using it to dry their arm pits for years (Something that you wouldn’t put past them).

“Charming…” You muttered. Quickly running into the safe, which had conveniently been blown open, you began to stuff the disgusting sack with as much money as it could hold before hefting it over your shoulder. When you returned you saw the two junkers placing what looked like C4 charges all over the entrance to the bank. “I got the cash. We blowing our way out?” 

“Sort of. Blow up the front, go out the back,” Rumbled Roadhog. You blinked up at him in surprise. You hadn’t even realized the man could talk.

Junkrat shook you out of your stupor. “You should probably hide yerself, don’t wantcha to go splat now do we.” 

“Right,” You jumped back behind the teller’s station. A few seconds passed before Junkrat and Roadhog joined you and a giant blast shook the building. 

“Ere we go!” Junkrat cheered. They tore off towards the back of the building and you had to scramble up onto your feet to follow them. Their plan had worked perfectly, the cops that had previously been guarding the back of the building had circled around to see if there were any casualties. Now there was just the matter of making it out of there alive. Which, judging by the rickety deathmachine they had lead you to, was not looking too good.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me…” Their “get-o-way mobile” was an old-fashioned motorcycle with a sidecar that looked like sitting in it would give you tetanus. But, like the rest of today’s events, it didn’t look like you had a choice. Junkrat hopped in first before grinning up at you and patting the ‘seat’ between his legs. Your face flushed a bit as you climbed into the sidecar. The bag of cash took up what little room was left and you were forced back into Junkrat’s chest. The junker seemed to relish in the contact though, judging from the fit of crazy giggles that he let loose. In fact, his giggles only got louder through the bumpy ride away from the police. There were several times where the bike hit a pothole, or when they took a curb too fast, that caused you to be thrown around violently. . . Which lead to a certain blonde junker’s metal arm being wrapped around your waist. You would have been embarrassed if his arm wasn’t working as a human safety belt.

By the time the ride was over you felt that the wrath of the police officers would have been preferable. As you awkwardly climbed out you felt as though a herd of cows had trampled over your lower body.

“Well, that was… Brisk.” You groaned. “I think I’ll just be on my way. . . as soon as I can feel my legs again.” 

“Ya get used to it, helps when ya only have one.” Chuckled Junkrat, tapping his metal leg against the ground. You smiled a bit at his antics.

“Really though, I should be going. Thanks for the ride out of there.” Roadhog glanced up at you and gave you a silent nod. Junkrat decided on the more theatrical approach and raised his hand to his head in a mock salute. 

“Nice to meet ya, killer. Stay classy,” He called out to you. You raised your hand and returned the salute before turning and trekking away. 

Maybe you’d see those two again. Strangely enough, you wouldn’t mind that. That motorcycle however, never seeing it again would be too soon.


	2. Too Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BANG. Look who's here, goody two-shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS SHORT

When you answered your door you hardly expected to find two Overwatch agents, Soldier 76 and Tracer, at your doorstep. In turn, they hardly expected you to punch Soldier 76 in the face and run. You’d been fearing this day for a long time. You could evade regular police until the day you die, but Overwatch? They were a different enemy entirely. So that’s why, after sucker punching Soldier 76 straight in the vizor, you ignored their shouts and ran quickly out your backdoor… Straight into a giant gorilla. Winston.

 

He smiled good-naturedly at you as his colleagues made their way towards you. Tracer spoke up first. “ We’re not here to arrest you, love!” She told you, her hands held up, trying to calm you. “As you may know, Overwatch is recruiting new agents. We’ve seen what you can do and we think you’d be a good fit!”

 

“Also…” Added Tracer, turning to look at Soldier 76. “It’s not every day that someone gets the drop on our old Soldier here.” You both had to hold back a snort of laughter. His visor was filled with spider web fractures and his arms were crossed over his- muscular- chest, making him look like a grumpy child. You glanced back at Tracer.

 

“So my crimes will be. . . Pardoned?” You ventured. Tracer nodded at you and Soldier 76 simply grunted in agreement. “Okay. . .Guess I better go pack.”

 

The trip to their headquarters was mostly uneventful. The only real surprise was how nice the jet was. Overwatch must’ve still had some pretty deep pockets even though they had just reformed. Five hours passed before you disembarked at Overwatch’s main base. The hangar was mostly empty, with only one other plane- what looked like an old Slipstream- and some miscellaneous debris. You soon saw that the rest of the base was just as empty.

 

“There aren’t many people here, are there?” You asked no one in particular. 

 

“No, there isn’t,” A gruff voice answered you. You glanced back at Soldier: 76, meeting his gaze before looking away. 

 

“Well,” Tracer piped up, trying to cheer things up. “We only just put out the recall. I’m sure people will start coming back in a jiff, love!” You had to smile at her optimism. . . Even if you didn’t agree with it. The stories you heard about the pre-shutdown Overwatch made your skin crawl. But, hey, it still beats getting arrested. 

 

Tracer lead you through a tour of the building while 76 and Winston trailed behind you. Mess hall, training area/gym, and briefing room. You were beginning to feel like you were in boarding school, all that was missing was a group shower. 

 

‘Oh god what if there’s a group shower,’ You internally screamed. Luckily, when they showed you to your “quarters” it had its own bathroom. All in all it wasn’t so bad. Sort of like a big hotel room. Your tour guides left you to unpack what little you had brought with you. The one good thing about the life of a professional killer was the lack of baggage. That and the money.

 

You flopped down onto the bed to try and take a nap. Emphasis on try. No more than ten minutes passed before a large boom sent you tumbling ungracefully from your bed.

 

“Mother of god!” You screeched. “What the hell!” You dashed out of your room and immediately zeroed in on the smoke billowing out from the door across the hall. You kicked down the door, eyes watering from the smoke. As you walked in you weren’t sure what you would find. Someone could be injured, or worse. You weren’t prepared for what you found.

 

There on the floor lay a soot covered, laughing, aussie.

  
  


**_“Oh hell no.”_ **


	3. Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think this is bonding?

“What the hell are you doing!?” You shouted at the burning man. He whipped around to look at you before grinning wildly. With some effort he righted himself and hobbled towards you with open arms.  You raised an eyebrow as you stepped away from him, arms crossed. As the smoke cleared you finally got a good look at him. He wasn’t wearing anything other than a pair of ratty, singed, boxers. 

 

“Sheila!” He exclaimed happily. “What’re you doin’ ‘ere?” Junkrat paused before a wolfish expression made its way onto his face. “Nooo, little killer ‘as had a change of heart, ay? Aces! Looks like we’re both ‘eros now, sweetheart!” Your face flushed as he lazily slung an arm around you, seemingly ignoring his unclothed state.

 

“How could Overwatch hire somebody like you?” You asked the junker in disbelief. He feigned a dramatically hurt expression. 

 

“Somebody like me? Oi, that hurts, killer! I thought we were partners in crime, Bonnie and Clyde. . . And Hog.” The hurt expression didn’t last long as he pulled you closer. It quickly melted into a conspiratorial grin as his amber eyes trailed over your face. “So ‘ow long ‘ave you been ‘ere?”

 

“Ten minutes. You?” 

 

“Bout a week.” He replied.

 

“What, and you’ve just been blowing stuff up in your room ever since?” You asked dryly. Junkrat chuckled, letting you go as he went towards the rubble from the explosion.

 

“Nah, only occasionaly, but that bodgy smoke alarm kept goin off an making a fuss wheneva I did. So I, uh, improvised. Gotta say it worked much betta that way.” You deadpanned. The idiot had made his smoke detector into a bomb. Before you could open your mouth to berate the junker Tracer dashed into the room.

 

“Jamison! I thought I told you that if you’re going to make bombs you need to do it outside- oh hello (Y/N). . . Wait,” Tracer exclaimed. She paused and looked between the two of you for a few seconds. “What’re you doing in here, love?”

 

“What?” Asked Junkrat, or rather, Jamison. “I can’t ‘ave a girl over? An’ I can’t blow stuff up? Ow am I supposed to ‘ave any fun?” He glanced at you, eyebrow raised. You ignored him.

 

“I live across the hall, Tracer. He woke me up so I went to see what was wrong.” You explained. 

 

“Aving trouble sleeping? I can fix that,” He chuckled. 

 

“Yeah, by not blowing up anymore smoke detectors while I’m trying to sleep!” You retorted. He grinned cheekily, happy to play this game with you.

 

“I can make more than just alarms explode, sheila,” You blushed, mind searching for a comeback. You were interrupted by a poorly hidden giggle. Tracer had her hand over her mouth as she watched the two of you interact. A knowing smile on her lips. Your blush deepened as you realized just why she was smiling. The two of you were basically oozing sexual tension. With a flustered sigh you excused yourself from the room before you gave the older woman any more reasons to ship you and Junkrat.

 

“See ya later, (Y/N),” He yelled as you walked away. You ignored him and the annoyingly amazing way he said your name.

 

No longer in the mood for a nap, you followed your nose to the mess-hall. In all honesty the room looked more like the food court at a fancy mall than a mess-hall. The far side of the mess-hall had floor-to-ceiling windows and there were tables and booths scattered around. After choosing a simple Indian dish you settled down next to the windows. It was quiet as you watched the last orange rays of the sun slip past the horizon. It gave you a peaceful moment to think about today's events. It wasn’t as if you felt any real connection to the home you left behind. It was a safe house. Nothing more nothing less. You went there to sleep and eat, and to fix yourself up if a job went bad. But. . . It  _ was _ your home and now you may never see it again. . . You let out a tired sigh. Being depressed about this wouldn’t do any good, maybe you should focus on the higher points on today.

 

If you could call the crazed junker a high point. 

 

It wasn’t as if you hated him, he  _ had _ saved your ass before. His personality could’ve been worse. . . Could have been better too. He certainly liked to tease you though. Constantly touching you and flirting with you. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he actually liked you.

. . .

 

“. . .Does he?” You wondered, putting your fork down. 

 

“Does who what?” Asked a familiar voice. Your head jerked up as the blonde junker made himself at home in the seat across from you. He slumped back in his seat after placing a strange drink on the table. 

 

“It’s nothing,” You lied. “What’s that though?” You gestured towards his drink. He picked it up and took a long sip. To your disgust you could see some of the small orbs at the bottom of the drink go up his straw. When he was done he offered it to you with a grin.

 

“It’s bubble tea, mate. One of the otha ‘eros turned me onta it.” Explained Junkrat. When you didn’t take it he pouted and gave the drink a little shake. “C’mon, it’s good!” You had to admit you were curious about the drink. . . Even if you were also slightly sickened. You decided to go with your inquisitive side. 

 

The drink was cool, sweet, and had the perfect amount of milk. The only thing that you were on the fence about was the small clear balls at the bottom. But to your surprise they were just tapioca balls. Really big tapioca balls. 

 

“That’s actually not that bad,” You admitted. Junkrat grinned triumphantly as you handed it back to him

“Told ya! Was I right or was I right?” Junkrat said haughtily. You rolled your eyes at his childish behavior, a smile creeping onto your face.

  
“You were right. Now give me another sip.”


	4. A New Rival in love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so late and so short! Enjoy!

 

You groaned as you layed back against the training room’s floor. You’d been training with Soldier: 76 for hours and you finally had enough. Realizing you weren’t getting up, 76 let out an exasperated sigh and walked over to you. He loomed over you as you stared up at him tiredly.

 

“Get up,” He commanded. 

 

76 had been trying to train you. Emphasis on trying. You had put in a fair amount of effort in the beginning, seemingly glad to have something to do, but after the third hour of 76’s relentless regimen you had begun to tire out. 

 

“No,” You grumbled up at him. “Haven’t you had enough already? We’ve been training since 8 AM, and it’s 2 PM now! Six hours! Six hours of this bullshit!” 

 

“This ‘bullshit’ is battle training, young lady!” He growled. You sat up at looked at him reproachfully.

 

“‘Young lady’?” You sneered. “What are you, my dad?”

 

“If I was your dad I’d be ashamed to have such a pissant kid that thinks just because she hit a few stationary targets she’s suddenly the best goddamn fighter in the world!” Yelled 76. 

 

‘Oh that is it!’ You seethed. Exhaustion momentarily forgotten, you expertly twisted your body around and kicked the man’s legs out from under him. 76 fell backwards and you took the opportunity to rise to your feet. By the time he knew what hit him you had him pinned face down. “What were you saying, old man?” Your moment of victory was interrupted by an appreciative whistle. As you turned towards the noise you saw Jamison clapping his hands excitedly as he hopped towards you.

 

“Holey dooley, sheila! Hog, d’ya see that! Bet she could give ya a run for yer money, ay?” He roughly jabbed his elbow into his companion’s large stomach a few times. You winced but Roadhog seemed to be fine, probably used to the blonde’s antics. Sitting up, you released your grip on Soldier: 76 but remained seated on his back. 

 

“Hi, Roadhog.” You called out. Roadhog nodded to you silently. Meanwhile Junkrat sent you a childish pout. “Hey, Jamie.” You added. The junker grinned at that, enjoying the way his name sounded on your lips. He opened his mouth to say something, presumably something crude, but was interrupted by Soldier: 76 throwing you off of him. You gasped as 76 took advantage of your surprise to pin you down. You glared up at him before your attention was pulled elsewhere. Namely the way he was pinning you down.

“Well,” You smirked. “If you wanted to grope me you should’ve just asked.” Soldier: 76 stiffened, suddenly aware of the placement of his hand. You watched as his face began to flush as he retracted his hand from the space between your breasts. 

 

“Ay now, that doesn’t look like trainin’ to me.” Junkrat grumbled as he moved closer to you. He crossed his arms and looked down at the two of you with an annoyed expression. 76 stood up, grabbing your hand as he did, and hoisted you to your feet. He paused for a second as if to say something before thinking better of it. He dropped your hand and turned away. Jamie grumbled a bit as he watched the older man exit the training room. 

 

You smiled at how childish he was acting. The stink eye he had given Soldier: 76 when he’d inadvertently grabbed your breasts reminded you of a jealous kid. “Oh,” You cooed. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?” Junkrat looked a bit shocked as you grinned at him. 

 

“Wha? No! I jus’ don’ think he should be grabbing your cans like that!” He objected. You paused before giggling wildly.

 

“My what?” 

 

“Your cans, ya know!” Junkrat replied, a bit flustered. “Your knockers, your tits.”

 

“That’s so cute!” You laughed. Glancing over, you realized he looked a bit put off. You put your hand on his forearm and looked at him. “Sorry, really, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just really cute, I’ve never heard someone call them that before.” 

 

Junkrat blinked. His eyes glued to your hand on his arm. Sure you two had touched before, flashback to that fateful night on their rolling death-trap, but it had never been initiated by you. A wide grin spread across his face. He liked it. 

 

“Don’ worry about it!” He chuckled before adding, “Though if ya’ want somebody to ‘train’ with you I’m always available.” You rolled your eyes as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, but you couldn’t keep the smile off your face. 

  
“I think I’ll keep my cans to myself, thanks.”


	5. Bath Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so late and short, but I didn't want to group the next part along with this one!

“So what’s the point of this, Hana?” You asked the smaller woman. She scoffed at your question, not bothering to look up from the tv screen as she shoved another handful of doritos into her mouth.

 

“Whaddya mean ‘what’s the point’? It’s fun.” Replied Hana. “Besides, I thought you’d like Call of Duty being an assassin and all.” You huffed and turned back to the game, in less than a minute Hana had sniped you again.

 

“Yep, that’s enough for me. I’m pretty sure that’s the thirteenth time you’ve killed me.” You sighed, putting the controller down.

 

“Fourteenth actually.” She laughed. “Again, don’t you kill people for a living?” Hana switched off the game and flopped down next to you. 

 

“I do. This game just isn’t realistic at all! The field of vision is too small and the weapons aren’t accurate.” You complained. Hana laughed at your annoyed expression and you rolled your eyes at her from your place on the floor. The two of you had grown pretty close in the short time you’d been at Overwatch. It had all started during a hectic mission in Japan. Ominics had surrounded you and were closing in when you heard the voice of your savior. You’ll always remember the way she screamed “Get wrecked, Scrubs” as she descended from the sky in a giant fucking pink robot suit. It was friendship at first kill.

 

You rested your head against the frame of her bed for a few seconds before the sound of the P.A. cut through the room. “(Y/N), please report to the hangar for mission debriefing.” You groaned and hoisted yourself off of the ground.

 

“Guess I’ll see you later,” You told Hana. She waved at you, her mouth full of doritos. You made your way into the hangar and saw Winston and Tracer waiting for you. 

 

“Hey guys, so what’s the mission?” You greeted them with a smile. 

 

“We’ll debrief in a minute, we’re just waiting on one more person.” Winston explained after giving you a quick hello.

 

“Oh? Who is it?” You inquired. Tracer chuckled nervously, avoiding your gaze.

“Well. . . It’s somebody you know at least, love,” Tracer told you. You looked at them both before deciding to take a wild guess at who it was.

 

“Is it Jamison?”

 

“‘S what Jamison?” A familiar voice piped up. You turned back and, of course, there was Junkrat. 

 

“The person I’ll be paired up with on the mission.” You looked back at Tracer and Winston. “You two do know I do stealth, right?”

 

“Yes. But this mission requires both of your skillsets. You see, We’ve received intel that there’s going to be an attack at the Peace Charity Gala tonight. Apparently a known terrorist group has- or is going to- place a bomb somewhere in the building. We would evacuate but-” Winston started to explain.

 

“But doing so would alert the terrorist group to the leak. So you want me to find the bomb and Junkrat to defuse it, right?” You finished for him. Winston and Tracer exchanged shocked glances.

 

“That’s exactly right, love!” Tracer exclaimed. “We would go over more details with you, but since time is of the essence we’ll get straight to business. (Y/N), you’ll be permitted to use your normal weapons for this mission. On top of that you’ll also need this cellphone. Hold down the power button for five seconds if you don’t think Junkrat can defuse the bomb or if something else goes wrong.” You nodded and she handed you a small black phone.

 

“Now, Junkrat, we’ve gotten you a pocket toolkit. It looks like a flask so no one should be suspicious of it.” Tracer paused, suddenly looking a bit awkward. “There’s, um, one last thing. It  _ is _ a Gala. So you’re going to have to be cleaned up…” You raised an eyebrow at that. They were going to give Jamison a make over? You’d pay good money to see that.

 

“Yer gonna give me a bath? Ai think I can do that by myself.” Junkrat told her, crossing his arms. Tracer blushed and held up her hands defensively.

 

“No, no. We’ve got a stylist for the both of you. They’re going to help get you ready.” She explained. From the low grumbles coming from Jamison you guessed he still wasn’t to keen on the idea.

 

“C’mon,” You prompted. “It’ll be fine. Besides it will certainly be interesting to see you without a layer of soot. Or with hair that isn’t on fire.” You reached up and touched a portion of his charred hair to prove your point. However what actually happened was your hand getting tangled in one of the numerous knots in his hair. “Okay, let’s add seeing you with combed hair onto the list.”

  
“Wha? I comb m’hair!” He protested. “Combed it last month!” Junkrat pouted down at you before something dawned on him. “Waitta minute, Ya don’t like my hair?” You sighed and shook your head. You probably shouldn’t have said anything. But hey, hindsight is twenty twenty. With Jamison trailing after you, you left to go meet up with the stylist.


	6. Let's Go Out With A Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat discover's the wonders of hair gel. And you discover how much you hate parties.
> 
> AHHH BOI I'm still alive! I started my second semester of college recently and have been suffering some extreme self worth issues but i'm okay! Please enjoy this slightly longer than usual chapter!

You couldn’t remember the last time you looked so good. (No, wait. Yes you could, five years ago for the assassination of a member of the Nigerian royalty. But that was beside the point. What mattered was how hot you looked right now.) The dress looked vintage, something akin to what was in style in the 1940’s, the sleeves and top hugged you tightly while the fabric starting at your waist spread out around you. Your hair was pinned up loosely and the makeup they applied was only a shade darker than your actual skin tone. You looked plain but beautiful. 

 

You exited the dressing room and walked over to Tracer. She was standing next to a black limo, when you got close enough she explained that it was to be your transportation for the mission. Bulletproof glass. Extra munitions in the side doors. A fully stocked mini fridge. The limo had everything you would need on the mission. Everything except for your mission partner. You had just decided to climb in and wait for him when you heard people shouting. You peered back at the door to the stylist’s room as a very angry junker stormed out, with three aggravated women following behind. 

 

“Stop touch’in me!” He whined as the women tried to do some finishing touches. Though, you had to admit there wasn’t much to touch up. They had done an amazing job. Jamison’s hair was slicked back, hiding the burned spots of his scalp, and he was dressed in a -tight- black suit. You couldn’t keep the blush off your cheeks, so you decided to hide away in the limo instead. Jamison grumpily joined you a minute later. 

 

“Ai still can’ believe we ‘ad to dress like this.” He growled, looking out the window. “There ain’ nothing wrong with ‘ow I usually dress. . . ‘Ow bad did they mess ya. . . up. . .” He turned towards you and paused. He hadn’t seen you when he climbed in. But now he couldn’t tear his eyes away. You felt your face flush again as Jamison let his eyes trail over your body. 

 

“Close your mouth,” You huffed. “Bugs will fly in.” He immediately shut his mouth with a resounding ‘clack’ and turned to stare out the window once again. This time with a cherry red face.

 

‘Dear lord this is going to be awkward.’

 

-

 

The limo ride was long and silent. Both of you were relieved when it pulled into the driveway of a towering mansion. 

 

Jamison voiced your thoughts as he whistled appreciatively. The house- No, more like ‘The Castle’ - was amazing. The outside was lit by hundreds of spotlights and paper lanterns. When you got closer you could hear classical music being played from somewhere inside. 

 

“Looks like Versailles.” You mumbled. “That’s a whole lot of rooms to check. . .” 

 

“Feckin’ rich people.” Junkrat grumbled. You had to laugh at that and he seemed relieved that the silence between two of you was broken. You exchanged a quick smile before the limo stopped and the doors were opened by an ancient looking butler. Once you had exited, the butler guided you into a huge foyer before hurrying off to cater to the next group of people. Junkrat stood next to you, shifting anxiously as he eyed the large amount of well-dressed people strolling around. You had to admit you were nervous too. You had never done a job this fast before, and had always been better prepared. Hell, you didn’t even have an alias. Shit. You probably needed one of those.

 

“Okay, Jamison.” You whispered as you dragged him off to the side. “If anyone asks we’re Mr and Mrs Lanyett. I’m a jeweler and you work from home. Okay?” His brow furrowed but he nodded anyway. 

 

“S’pose it’s smart to not use our real names. ‘Ow’d you come up with that so fast sheila?” Said Jamison. You shrugged and told him you’d used it on a different job before. “Mhmmm, sure you jus’ didn’ want to be married to me, ay,  _ Mrs Lanyett _ ?” 

 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m positive. Come on rat boy. We have to go bomb hunting. The two of you slowly made your way through the crowd. You had the sense to keep a smile on your face. Jamison, however, looked like he’d just sucked on a lemon. 

 

It wasn’t quite clear when you got seperated. But what  _ was _ painfully clear was that you were being talked to death. Mrs Jones - and her wife, Mrs Jones- had cornered you at the champagne table. They were greatly relieved to have found another young woman at the gala. You looked at them, they were both in their late fifties, and nodded hastily.

 

“Yes, it  _ is  _ nice to see some younger faces!” You said through a false smile. Mrs and Mrs Jones smiled happily and began to chitter on and on about different topics. They had just gotten to their opinions on Omnics when your savior appeared. You sighed with relief as you saw him hobble towards you. 

 

“‘Oi, wifey. Can ai steal you away for a jiff?” Jamison interrupted, placing a hand on your lower back. 

 

“Sure,  _ Dear _ .” You replied cheerfully. “So sorry girls but I have to run. You know how men can get when they don’t have their wife to help them out.” The Joneses giggled impishly at your joke and waved you off. Jamison lead you away, his hand still on the small of your back. He had apparently been exploring while you were trapped in gossip hell. Jamison pulled you through countless corridors and down three flights of stairs. 

 

“It’s in ‘ere. Found it strapped to the boiler.” He said as he opened a door into a murky, wet, basement. The bomb was indeed stuck to the side of the boiler. If you could even call it a bomb. It looked like a small steel disk with the trademark wires protruding out from the side. 

 

“How did you find this?” You ask as you try to get a better look at the bomb.

 

“Well the ‘ouse is freakin’ huge, so they’d either need a feckin huge bomb or they’d need ta use somethin’ that’s already ‘ere. So, bingo-bango, I check out the most explosive thing ‘ere and find that little bugger. When it goes off the boiler will take out most of the house. Boom!” Jamison explained happily. 

 

“I feel like that’s been done before. . .” You mutter to yourself. You crouched down and peered at the bomb warily. “You can diffuse it right?” Jamison huffed and knelt down next to you.

 

“‘Course I can, Killer. Now step back an’ let the  _ Artiste  _ do ‘is work.” He replied cockily. You scooted back some as he began to examine the bomb. His amber eyes narrowed and a grin spread across his face. Jamison spent a minute looking it over, and the way his grin faded was your first clue something was wrong. He started to panic, his movements becoming sharp and jittery. When he’d exhausted every trick he knew Jamison turned to you helplessly. “Ai think we may have a problem, (Y/N). . .”

 

You felt your stomach drop as you realized what he meant. Junkrat, the all-around explosive expert, couldn’t defuse the bomb. You immediately grabbed the cellphone that Tracer had given you and pressed the panic button. 

 

Bzzt. Sounds of static started coming out of the phone. “. . . (Y/N)?” Tracer’s voice cut through the static. “Do you need to evacuate the building?”

 

“Yes. We, er, we couldn’t do it. The bomb is still active.” You replied. 

 

“Alright. . . I’ll broadcast an evacuation alert and send in the local police. You two should get out of there.” Tracer’s voice cut out and the phone went back to the deafening static. 

 

“Well. . . I guess that’s that. We probably need to get going.” You breathed, voice more than a little bit melancholy. Jamison nodded and the two of you began to leave. You had reached the door when you heard something that made your blood run cold. Jamison whipped around and stared at you with wide, fearful, eyes. 

 

The device had begun to click and whirr. By the time it began to beep, you were already sprinting up the stairs. 

 

Jamison dragged you through the main hall by your hand. There were more people than there were before. The gala seemed to be in full swing. Some of them were staring at you and you felt like you should warn them. Damnit, you needed to warn them. “You all need to get out! This place is gonna blow!” You yelled as loud as you could. A few of them looked shocked or scared, some even ran out. But the majority stayed still, looking at you like you were crazy. “What are you doing? You’ll die if you stay here!” A couple more people started to panic after that. You tried to stop and tell them about the bomb, but Jamison wouldn’t let go of your wrist.

 

“What are you doing!? We need to help them!” You cried as he forcibly dragged you to the main entrance.

 

“I’m not letting you burn in here, (Y/N).” He growled. You turned back to the hall, watching helplessly.

 

The last thing you saw were the two women, the gossiping Joneses, from before. Looking at you, terrified, as they tried to follow you. They never made it out of the building. A blast rang out, and an orange ball of fire rose up, consuming the Joneses and throwing you like a rag doll. Your head crashed against the asphalt below. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


You blinked groggily. Your ears were still ringing from the explosion. But, hell. You were alive, and judging from the sudden sound of laughter next to you, so was Junkrat. You both sat up and stared at the giant hole the bomb had left. You felt light, ecstatic, the adrenaline still running through your veins. 

 

“We’re alive, oh my god! We’re alive!” You exclaimed. Jamison must have felt the same. You looked at each other before smiling tiredly, Jamison was still laughing like a madman. And maybe it was the adrenaline high, maybe it was the inconceivable act of surviving, but when Junkrat roughly pressed his lips against yours you didn’t pull away. If anything, you actually deepened the kiss. Tangling your hands in his charred hair. Junkrat happily took control of the kiss, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you closer. You didn’t know what you expected kissing him would be like. But the way he kept pulling back to let out a few happy giggles before plunging back in was definitely unique. Not in a bad way either. 

 

Junkrat sighed as he pulled away.

 

“Ahh~, I always knew we’d do great things together, killer.”

 


	7. Delay in Chapters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Due to a personal matter chapter 7 may be delayed some.

Hello, I'm sorry about this but I may not have time to write chapter seven for a little while... Right now my father and I are going through some hard times. Both of us have been kicked out of our house by my step mother (soon to be my former step mother). She's accusing my dad of assault even though she's already been arrested for assaulting him. Our court date is on the thirteenth so hopefully the judge will make the right decision and let us back into our home. 

Sorry- Wolfsbane (AE)


	8. Killing Relaxes Me, or, The Real Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this issss a Junkrat AND Soldier 76 x reader. Time to give the old man a chance. Also it's time to give the reader a little backstory.

It wasn’t til you stood up that you realized, while you were alive, you weren’t okay. As you hauled yourself to your feet you were hit by a wave of nausea. Looking down, you saw a pool of blood. You swayed unsteadily and Jamison scrambled to catch you as you toppled down.

________________________________

 

_ Now, hold it . . . Yes! Just like that. Good job, (Y/N). _

 

_ Now pull the trigger. _

  
  
  


_ Stop shaking, Cherie,  _

 

_ He’s already dead. _

 

_____________________________________

  
  


You woke with a start, sweat making the sheets cling to your body. The white room, IVs, and the slow beep of the heart monitor told you that you were in a hospital. You sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, putting the nightmare to the back of your mind. Your head was killing you-and it looked like someone had changed your clothes while you were out- but it seemed like you were alright. 

 

The soft click of a sliding door made you look up as a blonde woman entered the room. “You are awake! Wunderbar!” She exclaimed. “We were very worried about you, mein liebling. You had so much shrapnel in you, very messy. Thankfully they got you to the infirmary in time.” She had an almost ageless beauty and a thick accent, you recognized her almost immediately. The angel of Overwatch. Mercy, or Doctor Angela Ziegler.

 

“You’re doctor Ziegler, right? Thank you for taking care of me. . .” You sat up a bit straighter. “How long was I out?”

 

“Just a few hours. You should be able to leave soon, we just need to finish up your IV.” She explained. You were a bit surprised by that, you’d never had medicine that worked so fast. When you mentioned it to Doctor Ziegler she just laughed and said something about “the wonders of modern medicine”. True to her word you were patched up and ready to go as soon as all the liquid had been drained from your IV. (You were still concerned about how fast it had healed you, but it was best not to dwell on it.) You were heading out the door when she stopped you.

 

“Oh, (Y/N), your freunden, ze Junker. You should probably find him if you can. He was very worried about you. In fact he was here watching over you until I had to kick him out.” Dr Zeigler called out. If your head didn’t still hurt, you would have face palmed. 

 

“I know I may regret asking, but what did he do?” You asked her. 

 

“Well, mostly he was just very. . . Was ist das Wort? Unclean? Yes, he was very unclean, he got soot all over your bandages. His hair even caused the bedsheets to catch fire! . . . Ich schwöre, dass der Junge der Tod von mir sein wird. . . Anyways, I would go talk to him.” She explained, tiredly. You smiled a bit at the mental image of Junkrat causing havoc around you while you were unconscious. You told Dr Ziegler you would go make sure he was okay and then left the infirmary. 

 

It felt good to stretch your legs, even if you were still a bit woozy. You set off towards the mess hall to find Junkrat. If he was anywhere he’d be there, slurping down milk tea like there’s no tomorrow. You felt almost excited to see him. That was, until, your mind decided to remind you of what happened a few hours ago. Subconsciously, your hand rose to your lips. . . You stopped walking and turned around. 

 

“I am  _ not  _ dealing with all of these feelings right after waking up from a two-hour coma.” You hissed. With a sigh you turned around and walked towards the firing range, maybe some target practice would clear your head. When you got there you were disappointed to see that there were other people already inside. Your best friend, Soldier: 76, and a short girl with glasses. 76 turned towards you as you walked past him to the booth next to the girl. You slipped on a pair of headphones and removed your gun from its place on your hip. You raised the gun and started to fire. 

 

With each bullet you felt the stress leave your body. Nine shots later you were completely relaxed. 

 

As you put the headphones back you noticed the girl in the next booth had peeked around the wall. She looked a bit embarrassed when she noticed you, noticing her, and she stepped out from behind the wall. 

 

“Sorry! I was just impressed by your shooting,” She hastily explained, a blush rising to her cheeks. You smiled at her and told her it was fine. “Xièxiè. . . Oh umm, my name is Mei by the way. You must be the new recruit, (Y/N) right?”

 

“Yeah, that’s me.” You chuckled. “How did you know? I haven’t really seen many other people here.”

 

“Oh Hana told me last night. She said you were very bad at video games, but a good person.” Commented Mei. Of course Hana would say something like that. You didn’t know whether to be flattered or pissed. Maybe both. 

 

“That sounds like something she would say,” You remarked. “Though I still think she has an unfair advantage when it comes to videogames!” Mei laughed loudly, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

 

“I know, right. Hana is too good at those things!” She agreed. “She’s really something else.” 

 

The two of you chatted away for what seemed like hours, stopping only when your stomach decided to remind you that you hadn’t eaten since last night. Your face turned red as your belly let out a loud growl. Mei grinned, barely holding back her laughter.

 

“I think it’s telling me it’s time for lunch. I should head to the mess hall.” You told her.

 

Mei started to speak but was cut off by a deep, gravely, voice. “At this point it’s probably telling you it’s time for dinner. It’s 18:00.” Was it bad to say you had honestly forgotten 76 was there? Well, there he was, and there he had been, apparently.

 

“That would explain the hunger, then. Mess hall it is. Bye, Mei, it was nice to meet you,” You called out to her, earning a grin and a wave goodbye. 

 

“I’ll go with you.” 76 told you. You gaped a bit as he fell into step next to you. You didn’t want to talk to him. At least you thought you didn’t because after the fifth minute of uncomfortable silence you were feeling pretty chatty.

 

“Sooo,” You started. “You. . . Got a new visor. . . That’s good.”

 

“I’ve  _ had _ a new visor. I wasn’t training you with a broken one on, was I.” Said 76.

 

“No, you weren’t. That got repaired pretty fast though,” You grumbled.

 

“No. I always have at least five replacements ready at all times.”He told you shortly. You looked at him and started to laugh.

 

“Why does that not surprise me? Of course you’d have a backup, and a backup for your backup.” You snorted.

 

“What's that supposed to mean?” He asked gruffly his sight locked on you.

 

“I just feel like nothing really surprises you. Like nobody gets the drop on you.” You explained. “You always seem pretty prepared.”

 

“. . .You did,” He commented. “In more ways than one. First you cracked my visor, then you actually joined Overwatch. And that wasn’t even the surprising part. What gets me is how well you’re taking it, this whole thing, being forced to join Overwatch. Honestly. I don’t understand it.” His sudden bit of honesty was surprising to say the least. You didn’t respond right away, eyes glued to the floor. You could tell him why you really joined. Part of you wanted to tell him, wanted his approval. With a resigned sigh you looked back up at his visor.

 

“. . . Look. Nobody else knows this, okay? But I wasn’t planning on being an assassin forever. I had what you could call a wake up call. Some stuff happened and it made me realize I needed to stop. So when Winston offered me a place here I took it as a sign that it was time to change.” You murmured. “God I don’t know why I’m even telling you this.” Neither of you spoke for a while and the two of you walked in an amiable silence. Suddenly you felt a warm hand on your back.

 

“Communication between teammates is important. Maybe when you’re more comfortable here you can tell me what you’re running from.” He reassured you, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your back.

 

“Maybe.” You echoed. “I wouldn’t want you to lose  _ all _ respect for me though. Or whatever is left of it.” You saw his brow furrow out of the corner of your eye, but you didn’t say anything else, and neither did he.

  
  
  


It was strange, but you actually didn’t hate taking with him. You still thought he had a gigantic stick up his ass, but you enjoyed the walk nonetheless.  
  
  



	9. Jealous Much?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'm still alive! I'm not too happy with this chapter but I powered through it so I could get to write the stuff I'm excited about next!!

Junkrat grinned widely as he sat in the mess hall with Hana and Lucio. The both of them looked at him skeptically as he recounted the events of your mission.

“Swear t’god, mate. She was on me like milk on tea.” he boasted. “Snogged ‘er for a good five minutes. Really intense stuff.” Hana rolled her eyes and Lucio chuckled awkwardly.

“Haven't you ever heard the phrase ‘don't kiss and tell’, my man?” Said Lucio. 

“As if,” Teased Hana. “I know for a fact she's got eyes for our old soldier.” Junkrat rolled his eyes dismissively.

“Why would she wanna be with a fossil like that, huh? B’sides, her lips speak for themselves,” He chuckled.

“I still don’t think you should be talking about (Y/N) like that behind her back.” Lucio advised. “Girls can be sensitive and mysterious creatures. And often those creatures don’t take being someone’s trophy so nicely.” Hana nodded sagely as Junkrat stared at them blankly.

“He’s right. Take it from a girl, stop bragging about kissing (Y/N) so much. I mean, it’s fine to talk to us about it but you gotta draw the line somewhere.” Hana added.

“Yeah man, half the base knows by now.” Lucio chuckled.

“Well! Ai can’t help that ai am VERY friendly individual, chatting with my mates about a beaut shouldn’ be such a big deal.” He huffed.

“I didn’t know you were ‘Mates’ with the janitor, the omnics that work in the maintenance room, Zenyatta…” Hana scoffed.

“Don't forget Zarya too,” Lucio added. Junkrat’s face reddened and he busied himself with his food. Hana and Lucio shared a laugh before falling into a content silence.

Hana looked up, seeing a flash of (y/h/c) and navy blue. “Isn’t that Soldier 76? What’s she doing with him?” She mused. Junkrat looked up and saw you chatting amicably with the older man before huffing and turning away.

“Don’t know, don’t care.” He pouted. Hana and Lucio shared a knowing glance before bursting into laughter. “What’s so funny!?”

“You’re way too obvious, man.” Lucio chuckled.

“Yeah,” Hana chimed. “I’m surprised (Y/N) hasn’t figured it out by now.” Junkrat’s face reddened and he sputtered words in his defence. 

“J-just because I don like it when she's hangin on that ol man don mean I'm jealous!” He grumbled before getting up. “I'm headin out.” Hana and Lucio both waved him off, ignoring his glare as they chuckled to themselves.

\-----------------------

You and Soldier:76 had parted ways, he went to chat with Reinhart and you to your snickering friends   
“What was that about?” You inquired as you reached the table. 

“Nothing important,” Said Lucio. “You gonna sit with us?” You raised an eyebrow but didn't press it, if they wanted to tell you they would.  
“Nah, just thought I'd stand here.” You hummed as you sat down next to Hana. “Did I see Jamison hobble away earlier?”

“Yeah he, uh, went to go find Hog.” Hana said quickly. She glanced at Lucio hastily and he nodded along.

“Yep that is what happened. . . Yup.” 

“. . . You two know I used to kill people for a living right?”


End file.
